Submission (11 page)

She could hear the Master
breathing, could feel the heat of his body as he moved around her, checking his
work. He slid his fingertip beneath the ribbon, checking how taut it was,
making her realized that he had knotted it so that she could barely breathe.

She thought of Rafael liking his
women bound so that they couldn’t even shiver.

She trembled again, her sex
pulsing.

The Master slid another round of
ribbon around her body. It wrapped around her above her breasts, locking her
in, encasing her tightly. Joanna swallowed as she remembered the clerk talking
about a purple satin mummy. The ribbon went over one shoulder then, and between
her breasts, the next two rounds crossing over her chest.

Again he walked around her. Again
he checked what he had done.

Deliberate.

In control.

Commanding.

“Good color for you,” he said and
grasped her hands, tugging them down and folding her arms behind her back. He
bound her left wrist to her right elbow, then her right wrist to her left
elbow, always ensuring that the bond was secure but not hurting her. He wrapped
the ribbon firmly around her forearms, trapping them against each other and to
her back.

“Struggle,” he commanded, his tone
impassive.

Joanna squirmed. The ribbon was
tight, smooth and soft, locked in place. She was encased in satin from
shoulders to waist, bound and helpless. The realization both excited and
terrified her. She wriggled a little more, panicking that she couldn’t make any
difference to her bound state.

“Go for it,” he said, amusement in
his tone.

She thrashed and fought, but not
one inch of ribbon budged. She felt again that sense of excited futility, the
knowledge that everything was out of her power. It both calmed and excited her.

Just as before.

“Perfect,” he concluded and kissed
her lips quickly. The fleeting taste of him teased her with what could be,
reminding her of the heat he could rouse in her with his lips. He ran his hands
over her head again, framing her skull so that she felt snared by the satin and
by him. It was a delicious sensation.

“Tell me it’s perfect,” he
whispered in her ear.

Joanna swallowed. “It’s perfect,”
she murmured back and was shocked to realize that it wasn’t a lie.

“How do you feel?”

“Captive,” she admitted.
“Claimed.”

“And we’ve only just begun,” he
said with promise.

His hands were around her waist,
unfastening the garter belt. His warm palms swept down her thighs, easing the
stockings down to her ankles. He guided her to sit on that table again, the
cold shocking her once more, then tugged off her shoes and the stockings with
them. He rolled her over and she felt the cold of the marble on her chest in
the minute gaps between the ribbon.

The stone coffee table was a
platform for a statue.

And she would be the sculpture he
made.

The Master wrapped ribbon around
the arch of one foot, knotting it before he slid its cool width around that
ankle, knotting it again. More sliding satin and her ankles were bound
together, her feet wrapped in smooth captivity. The satin ribbon fell on her
buttocks in waves, then he wrapped the ribbon from her ankles around her waist,
tying this knot a little tighter than the original one.

“Hog-tied,” he said, his voice a
breath beside her ear. “Just as you requested.”

Harnessed and hog-tied.

He flipped her over and tossed her
onto the velvet couch so that she landed on her back and bounced slightly. Then
he wrapped her, truly encasing her in the satin, wound the ribbon around and
around so that she was completely surrounded by it. It could have been her
second skin, the ribbon bound so tightly around her body that she thought she
would explode.

Only her nipples, her mouth and
her sex remained exposed.

It was impossible that anyone
could be more securely bound than she.

Joanna adored the sensation.

She should have guessed what he
was doing when he propped some pillows beneath her, but still the flash of the
camera surprised her. He took three, four, maybe five shots of her trussed up
in that ribbon, then rolled her over and took more from the back.

The pictures worried her all over
again, agitating her with possibilities.

The Master seemed to sense as
much. He kissed her ferociously, then when her mouth was swollen and open, he
took a shot of her in her hood. Joanna was sure she looked like she was loving
it and wanting more. She thought of those pictures, tried to imagine what he
would do with them, and shook.

“For our scrapbook,” he said.
“Joanna bound a thousand ways.”

Joanna moaned. She was trembling
and hot when his fingers closed over her clitoris in a tight pinch. He caressed
her with ease, driving her crazy with her helplessness and his power. “You’re
forbidden to come,” he said, teasing her so adeptly that she wasn’t sure she’d
have a choice.

He bent and ate her, a hundred
times more masterful in his touch than Rafael had been. Joanna moaned and he
put one hand over her mouth, his fingers smelling like her sex and the Plume’s
body wash. His hand locked over her lips, ensuring her silence. He opened her
mouth to rub his fingers against her teeth.

She couldn’t even think as he
flicked his tongue across her hard clitoris, and she gasped when he closed his
mouth over her completely. She felt his teeth and his tongue, his breath. His
other hand lifted her butt, his thumb caressing her labia, and Joanna knew she
couldn’t last any longer.

“Who owns you?” he whispered, his
breath against her sex, driving her crazy.

“My Master owns me,” she replied,
wishing he’d just finish her off.

“What can your Master do to you?”

“Anything he wants.” She
improvised into the silence. “Anywhere he wants. Anytime he wants. I am his to
command. I am his possession.” She pumped her hips and moaned. “Master,
please.”

His heat moved away and she heard
the crackle of a package. Her breath caught with the conviction of what he
would do. A heartbeat later, he moved up the length of her, settling his weight
atop her and driving his strength inside her.

He was as hard and thick as he’d
been before, but he dragged himself against her sex slowly as he moved in and
out. The condom tugged a little bit against her thickened lips, too. He was
tormenting her and she adored it. He locked his hands around her head, bracing
his weight on his elbows, moving with surety, in complete command.

He drew out of her then drove in,
his strength making her gasp. He made the same move again, his hips rolling
against her. The satin, the miserable gorgeous satin, held her captive to
whatever he wanted to do. Joanna was floating in her satin bonds, consumed by
sensation and beholden to the Master’s touch.

Helpless.

He dragged his erection across her
clitoris, doing it so slowly that she groaned. Again and again and again he
repeated the move until she was sure she couldn’t stand it anymore. She started
to shake, vibrating from a point deep inside herself.

“Please, Master,” she dared to
beg.

She heard him chuckle, felt his
mouth graze hers. “Come, slave,” he commanded, driving deep inside her.

Joanna did exactly as she was
told, weeping as the orgasm ripped through her with savage force. Her release
went on and on and on, making her cry out in pleasure. When she felt the Master
come once again, she moaned so loudly that he locked his hands around her head
again and kissed her to silence.

It was perfect.

***

Rex carried Joanna into the
bathroom, his limp lover bound in purple satin. He laid out the thick bathrobe
on the floor, taking his time to unknot the bonds. He took a few more pictures,
unable to resist. When she wore only the hood, he filled the tub with warm
water.

She stirred when he lifted her
into the tub, then nestled her head on his shoulder with a touching confidence
in him. He washed her slowly and thoroughly, liking that the washcloths were
thick and soft. The brush of them against his own skin aroused him all over
again, especially with her sweetly slumbering in his arms.

He knew she was awake when she
pressed a kiss to his throat, her lips lingering against his pulse. He lifted
her out of the bath and set her on her feet, drying her off with so much care
that she giggled.

“Not between my toes,” she said
and he did it again, working the towel between her toes that that she squirmed
against him once more.

He stood and caught her against
himself, kissing her deeply.

“Was I a good slave?” she asked,
her lips quirking.

She shouldn’t have addressed him
without permission, or he should have punished her for doing it, but Rex liked
her comments and playfulness. She looked mischievous, smiling up at him in her
hood, clever and so sexy that his breath caught.

He ran his hands over the hood
again, liking the delicate feel of her within it, the contrast between his
power and her femininity. He liked the look of his dark hands against the
purple satin. If she was truly his, he’d keep her hooded every day, run his
hands over her like this every day, come in her mouth every night. He’d never
tire of her.

“Keep your mouth open,” he
instructed. “Like you’re gasping with pleasure.”

She did as he instructed, tipping
her head back, and he took a shot of his left hand holding her head, his thumb
bracing her chin, her hair falling like silk down her back.

He kissed her again, sucking her
dry, wanting all over again.

“Let me suck you off,” she
whispered when he broke his kiss and his cock – already hard –
pounded at the idea. “I want you to come in my mouth.”

“It’s not up to you.”

She smiled. “But I want a reward
for being a good slave.” She stretched up and kissed his cheek. “I want to
return the pleasure.”

She wanted to be in control, like
she had been the last time. Rex was close to denying her request and she must
have sensed it.

Because she begged.

And sweetened the offer.

“Truss me up as tightly as you
want,” she whispered, tempting him with the possibility. “Bind me helpless,
photograph me, then fuck my mouth.” He watched her swallow. “Please, Master.
Show me what it’s really like to submit to the Plume.”

There was no question of him
declining. She knew exactly what he wanted and offered it. Her plea shorted
something in his mind, fed a new urgency inside of him, made it impossible to
think of anything else.

Rex knew exactly how he wanted her
for this.

She would be completely captive.

His.

Finally.

He got the coil of heavy rope out
of his bag in the foyer, glad of his own optimism. He led her back into the living
room, then headed for the bedroom, his hand on the back of her neck to guide
her. He left her standing in the middle of the room, then shut the drapes,
cocooning them in a space of ivory satin and velvet.

No satin this time. He wanted it
to look rougher, wanted different pictures for his fantasy scrapbook.

He was pretty sure he would
startle Joanna and she would change her mind.

He was prepared to back off when
she did.

But maybe he’d get a few good
shots first.

He tied her hands together behind
her back with the rope, expecting the first touch of it against her skin to
make her bolt. It was thick, jute, stiff. She started for a second, then
relaxed in his grasp. Submissive. So obedient that he thought he’d explode.

But no. He’d build the tension
slowly.

Savor it.

Make it last.

He bound her wrists below her
buttocks, her arms straight out, winding the rope up to her elbows. He then
pushed her down to her knees. She moved immediately, so biddable and submissive
that his cock hardened even more.

She crossed her ankles at his
command and he bound them together, using lots of rope. Too much rope, but the
heavy jute looked savage against her fine bones. Exhilarating. He secured her
wrists to her ankles, a couple of feet of rope between the two, so that she was
trapped on her knees. He had to catch his breath for a second, because the
sight excited him so much. It was every fantasy come true. He took a close-up
of her bound ankles and wrists, her perfect butt behind them.

He adjusted her posture, so her
knees were apart and braced against the carpet, ankles together, back arched.
He saw then that she had tipped her head back and parted her lips.

Following his original
instructions in the limo.

Her mouth ready for his cock.

Desire ripped through him like a
bolt of lightning. Rex worked more quickly, determined to get done before he
blew his load, dizzy with the prospect of having her this way. He wound the
rope around her over and over again, crisscrossing it over her body, binding
her to complete helplessness, encasing her in a network of heavy jute. Her skin
gleamed though the gaps, as smooth as the satin ribbon, startling in contrast
to the rope.

It was impossible for her to move,
to even wriggle, trapped as she was within a woven net of heavy rope. He’d used
almost all of it, ensuring her captivity.

He knew what he’d do with the
rest. He knotted a length of ribbon over the last increment of the heavy rope,
creating a hard satin nub. He hauled that section of rope between her legs,
sliding the satin knot so that it rubbed against her clitoris.

He worked it back and forth,
teasing her with it until she moaned and rocked her hips.

Joanna was his possession, his
captive.

He could do whatever he wanted
with her.

For as long as he wanted.

He secured that rope to the
others, trapping her snatch against the hard satin knot. She moaned that
delicious moan.